Harry Potter and the Gold Star of Christmas
by Sable Fennec
Summary: Harry, Luna and Hermione decorate a Christmas tree. It's sappy. It's romantic. It's also a threesome.


Harry Potter and the Gold Star of Christmas

Author's notes: This was written for Kent. His favorite pairing is Harry/Hermione, which I, personally, can't find any chemistry in. He also likes unremittant sap, which I, agian, have no taste for. However, I did say I would fulfill a request, so I did. Just, you know, added in a threesome and some tamer schmoop. Info on streelers, horklumps and gnomes were obtained from the Harry Potter Lexicon, that godly creation, and is therefore accurate to canon. I can't speak for the characters, though, much as I'd love to see Hermione and Luna hold hands. (Please excuse the title. It was created under duress.)

* * *

"Harry, dear," said Hermione, frowning, "I don't think you're doing that right."

"It's missing a streeler," said Luna dreamily.

"That would kill the tree," Hermione pointed out.

Harry, perched atop a ladder, looked down at them and had to smile. "I never thought decorating could be so entertaining," he said, overcome with the urge to kiss each of them, one after the other, in quick succession. Hermione would fret over the uncompleted décor, though; there was time for kissing later.

"I never did, either," answered Hermione with a smile. She reached up and twisted her hair into a neat roll, then stuck a muggle pencil through it. These kinds of gestures only served to remind Harry of the mysterious knowledge girls had of hair techniques. Ginny, for example, could produce elaborate up dos in less than an hour, while Harry considered it a great feat to have his lie flat. Although, looking down at Luna, he thought maybe not all girls found it so easy. More likely, she just didn't care.

"Harry Potter, are you listening to me?"

"Not really," he admitted. It'd been years since he was embarrassed to admit such a thing; undoubtedly the influence of friends and rigorous opposition.

Before Hermione could do more than frown again, and pretend it wasn't hiding a smile, Luna cut in: "Well, no one's listening to me, but you don't see me complaining about it."

"Oh! I am sorry, Luna," was the response she received. Hermione took a few quick steps from the box of undoubtedly antique ornaments and laced her fingers with Luna's. She leaned into her warmth, still shy at these overt gestures of affection, less from the fact that Luna was female, or that Harry was watching and wishing unashamedly that he could be between them, than the fact that this relationship was important to her. Oh, sure, she had flirted with the idea of love gapping the impossible distance of culture with Viktor, but had ultimately found it strained by it: that dream that every girl dreams and lets die at age fifteen; and she had flirted also with Ron, the idea of comfortable, old love, the true ideal in every young girl's heart; but here, now, with Luna and Harry, she found something real.

"It's Christmas, you know," Luna pointed out.

"Yes," said Harry, and this is a playfully cautious voice, for those sort of pronouncements from Luna always preceded something that made Hermione roll her eyes. He stepped carefully down the ladder steps, leaving a bright gold star perched precariously atop the evergreen tree (which was thoughtfully charmed to prevent needles from falling). "I even bought you both presents. I almost didn't, though. It was close."

"Oh, you!" Hermione hit his arm. "You've never forgotten presents, Harry, not even when you were eleven and unsure what to buy a girl."

"I don't think we were talking, yet, that Christmas."

"Yes you were," said Luna, "you just got distracted by the troll. Anyway, it's not Christmas without a streeler."

"What is a streeler, anyway?" Harry asked, who had a great love of magical beasts but not particularly of studying.

Hermione, who was just the opposite, replied promptly, "It's a large African snail that secretes a poisonous slime in its trail. Especially dangerous to horklumps, often fatal, which I daresay is distressing for the gnomes – "

"Oh, gnomes don't eat them," Luna cut in. "You're got it all wrong. They use them to dig."

"I don't think that's particularly efficient."

"It makes a funny picture, though, doesn't it?" mused Harry. He gave into an earlier impulse and broke the grasp of Hermione's hand on Luna's, like cutting a thin red thread, and then connected them with an arm around each waist.

Hermione smiled. Luna said, "You really do have the death card all over the place, Harry."

"What?"

"Great change. Ukemochi. Food to life."

"Er, yes," he said, and the other girl on his arm didn't even try to hide her quiet laughter.

"It's inevitable," Luna insisted.

Harry let it rest. He soaked in the atmosphere. He said, "We could _lumos_ the star, make it shine gold."

"That's okay," said Hermione. "I think it looks fine."

"Needs a streeler. Changes color every hour, you know. But," Luna conceded, "it's not bad. For Christmas."

"No. Not bad at all."


End file.
